By Jeannine Purdy
PERTH — Non-Aboriginal Western Australians commemorated the founding of the Swan River Colony on June 5. They have learned the story of the "settlement" of their state, of Perth in particular, as one in which Aboriginal people scarcely figure. But for all its currently ironic connotations, the foundation of Perth is not just the story of a dignitary's wife chopping down a tree.
The foundations of the state were also built upon the emaciated, flogged, sickened and wounded bodies of the Aboriginal people who originally occupied these lands. The discourse of the early colonists was often one of warfare, as also found in Henry Reynolds' Fate of a Free People. What is clear, however, is that this warfare did not only occur in some (comfortingly) remote areas,. Newspaper reports of the time indicate events such as those described below took place at Monger's Lake, Bassendean, Point Armstrong, Guildford, Kings Park, Fremantle and in the streets of Perth city.
The early colonists wrote that Aboriginal people "naturally consider us to be foreign intruders"; that they were "the original possessors of the country"; that we owed some measure of relief to those whom we had "dispossessed of the free range of the country, and whose means of subsistence we have curtailed". In 1834 it was written that "it is incumbent upon us ... to show every kindness to a people whom we have spoiled of their country".
This recognition, however, did not stop the killing and destruction. Indeed, it may well have been the very tenacity with which Aboriginal people resisted their dispossession that brought home to the colonists whose land this was.
Those who would "naturally" be considered intruders chronicled their own history, and it is their own public accounts, published in the Perth Gazette between January 12, 1833, and June 6, 1835, which are the basis of this article.
Even the intruders were, at times, troubled by the reconciliation of violence and the propagation of their civilisation. They wrote with concern about a "wanton attack" on a group of the original owners of the land — people who were shot at on sight. It was a troubling place where "even" members of the elite would return from a morning out, complaining of having "had but one shot at a black".
At other times, there was less worry. The only concern raised by the shooting of an unarmed woman who had approached an armed invader with "threatening gestures" was possible reprisals.
Aboriginal people who stole the intruders' provisions were also routinely shot and killed. This violence was accepted despite the intruders' realisation that they had destroyed or appropriated the food sources of the people of this land. But colonists concerned over this appropriation were subject to a government proclamation making it a criminal offence for them to share their food with Aboriginal people.
There were episodes when mere shooting was not enough. Campaigns of terror were officially sanctioned.
When a member of their tribe was shot in the head for taking some flour, one group of Aboriginal people retaliated by killing two whites. A proclamation was issued by the lieutenant governor and the colonial secretary providing massive rewards if the bodies of the three alleged offenders were produced to a justice of the peace "dead or alive". (This type of warrant seems to have been reserved for those "outlaws" of Aboriginal descent.)
The detailed reporting of the "hunt" for these "outlaws" was accompanied by vague reports of the shooting of other, unnamed, "natives". Eventually, one of those condemned by the proclamation, an elderly leader of his people, Midgegooroo, was captured with his five-year-old son.
A rudimentary trial was conducted — although the court did not wait until the only witness to the "murders" was available to give evidence. Midgegooroo was taken outside the jail and shot by a military-style execution squad. Large crowds had assembled in the main streets of the city to watch the execution.
Even other colonies complained of the execution — stating that such a punishment was to be reserved only for military offences. But perhaps the execution, as an act of war, betrayed something of the reality of the situation.
Later another of the proclaimed outlaws was killed by an intruder who pretended to befriend him. The "outlaw" was skinned and his head was cut off, smoked and sent to the "mother country".
"Mr Pettigrew held his second conversazione for the season in his house at Saville-Street, on Wednesday evening last. The rooms were crowded, and many objects of exceeding interest were exhibited ... Amongst others we noticed a head peculiarly preserved, which was said to be the head of Yagan ..." (Perth Gazette, December 13 1834).
Following Yagan's death, another proclamation was issued revoking the warrant on the third remaining "outlaw", Munday. The public notice proclaimed, "it is most probable, from late experience, that a further perseverance in the pursuit of the remaining Outlaw would involve the Colonists in a disultory [sic] warfare of indefinite continuance, and in a state of constant insecurity and alarm most adverse to Agricultural pursuits" (Perth Gazette July 27 1833, p.117; my emphasis).
Although there were more retaliations against the intruders, it was said that the governor and colonial secretary were reluctant to issue another proclamation rewarding the capture of the "outlaws". It was reported that such a proclamation could not be issued without involving "the Colony in a war of extermination".
As the newspaper report cautioned, and as had no doubt also been learned "from late experience", "mistakes [were] likely to occur in the bush where the persons of savages bear so strong a resemblance to each other". And yet, subsequently, other such proclamations were issued. Moreover, with stories of the slaughter and disappearance of stock increasing, a newspaper report stated, "The sooner this is looked to the better, or we may rely upon it, we shall be again involved in massacre and bloodshed" (my emphasis).
Sometimes the people of this land would learn the "lesson" that the intruders were determined to teach them. In 1833, two leaders of the Yellowgonga tribe, Migo and Munday, requested an interview with the lieutenant governor in order to enter into a treaty with the intruders.
They stated that of their own tribe, 16 had been killed and nearly twice as many injured by the intruders; the newspaper report of the interview added "indeed it is supposed, that few have escaped uninjured".
To commemorate this attempted reconciliation, Aboriginal people acted out one of their traditional corroborees. The performance was interrupted when a group of intruders threw water over the performers.
Within 10 years of the events described above, the man appointed to "protect" the Aboriginal population, Symmons, extolled the virtues of the "settlers" of Western Australia. In 1842, the so-called Guardian of Aborigines wrote, "In the annals of British Colonization, few people can advance higher claims, with regard to their relations with a race of uncivilized Aborigines, than the settlers of Western Australia".
How was it that our history could come to be rewritten in so few years?
The return of Governor James Stirling in 1834 was seen as heralding "a new era in the Colony". The new era, however, was not characterised by anything that could justify Symmons' "high claims" on behalf of the "settlers", but rather by the beginning of the processes which allowed us to forget.
With the establishment of a mounted police force and Stirling's edict that "he would not leave one [black] man on this side of the hills" if they did not do as he wanted, local Aboriginal people were either acquiescent, driven from their homelands or dead.
The proof of this "new era" came with the "Pinjarra encounter" on October 27, 1834. A "Gentleman ... eyewitness" stated that 25-30 members of the Murray tribe were left dead, but that it was "very probable more men were killed and floated away in the river".
Even this eyewitness acknowledged the killing of women, children and old men. He stated that Stirling had released captured Aboriginal people so that they could tell others that if they killed any whites in retaliation, the mounted police "would proceed amongst them and destroy every man, woman and child".
It was some seven months after this that Stirling organised the inaugural Foundation Day commemoration, in which Aboriginal people were invited to participate. The Perth Gazette reported, "The labouring classes, for whose enjoyment and entertainment these diversions were got up, appeared perfectly delighted".
We have learned to forget the nature of "settlement", just as we have learnt to forget whose land this was. Perhaps when we listen to Aboriginal people, the myths upon which our state is founded will cease to divert and entertain us, and we will begin to wonder about just what it is that we celebrate every year.